Blessing or Bravery?

I get a lot of wide-eyes and knowing looks from people when I am out and about with three or four of my boys. You know, the kind of wide eyes that say, "That's a lot of kids!" and the knowing looks that say, "my-oh-my you've got your work cut out for you!" And with those expressions usually follow a comment of some sort that goes something like, "You are so brave! I stopped at two. I can't imagine FOUR!" or "Four BOYS. Your hands are FULL." And you can imagine the tone: these are not meant to be encouraging statements.

These comments are not new to me and I have had lots of time to process the best response. For a while I just gave them equally wide eyes and agreed with them. Not because I agreed with them, but because its always nice to get sympathy from strangers. It occurred to me a couple of years ago that I am not the only one within earshot of these comments. I did not want perfect strangers to define any part of my children's psyche. They have no right to impress upon my children that they are a burden. Not only is it is lie, it is the opposite of the truth. My children are not burdensome; they are a blessing.

So my answers morphed into something that would make sure my kids knew I disagreed with the sentiment. "I love every one of them!" or "I feel blessed," I would respond.

Our culture teaches that children are a heavy weight to shoulder. Even common parenting experience points to how difficult it is to "deal with" children. That is such a sad state of affairs. Raising children IS a challenge, especially when there is not a Guidebook on the nightstand. Parenting is a puzzle without a great group of fellow moms walking alongside you, to commiserate AND celebrate with. Motherhood is trying and exhausting, especially when she is expected to live with one foot in full-time work, and another foot in full time mothering. The sentiment these onlookers express is their reality (or their imagined reality). And that really is sad - so sad!

In light of these considerations, my answers are ever-so-slightly changing again. Each time a "sympathetic phrase" is uttered my direction, I see it as an opportunity to share another perspective. "My, you are brave," they say. I can respond with a genuine smile and light in my eyes and say, "I'm not brave, but I am blessed." "I see you have your hands full," they say. To which I get to say, "Yes - delightfully full!" I like to try and pause for a half-second longer to look in their eyes with a smile so they can see my joy.